Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
No matter how many times I have this nightmare, it's the cold keeping me from seeing all the pieces of the puzzle. My brain temporarily freezes, locking me out, barring me from seeing the truth.
The longer I focus on it, the more it changes, the edges becoming hazy.
Sinking deeper into the dream, my eyes catch on the glittering crystal of something above me…a chandelier? It's lovely but nothing like home, nothing like the house I grew up in, or the room where I was beaten over and over and over.
The dream feels real, like I'm experiencing it for the first time. I'm so close to the end of that night, so close to seeing what really happened, to filling in all the blank spots in my memory.
A shadow moves back and forth in the crystal light. A darkness breaking up the infinite gleaming light.
The cold breaks, and warmth wraps around me like a heavy balm. Hands cup my cheeks, then the back of my neck. I sigh.
Sebastian. Sebastian.
This is a dream. A nightmare shifting into a better light.
I’m tempted to curl into the warmth, to have it chase away the lingering cold, but I don't. I can’t. Not until I see his face.
The dream bursts like a bubble popping. A sharp burst of pain slaps against my cheek, and I gasp, my eyes fluttering open. An onslaught of sensations crashes into me all at once.
The bruises and cuts from last night ache, and the heat in the room is almost sweltering. Beads of sweat slip down between my breasts. Under my ripped T-shirt, Sebastian’s shirt, that I snatched off the bed.
I rear back, hitting the hard edge of a wooden chair with my shoulder blades and crushing my hands, bound behind me, with my own weight.
"Ely," a voice calls, and I know that voice.
His terrible fucking voice.
Tendrils of fear slither around me, tightening their grip. I blink at the hazy image before me, trying to make the nightmare of my reality disappear. But no matter how many times I open and close my eyes, the image never changes.
Yanov is still there, his lips ghosting against my cheek, his other hand cradling the opposite side of my face. No. No. No. Dread slides along my skin, soaking into my lungs with every breath I take.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How did I get here?
The memories come rushing back into my mind.
The security guard, my damn trusting nature. How could I have been so stupid?
A hot tear slides down the apple of my cheek, and I twist, trying to tug myself from his grasp.
"Ely," he whispers my name again. "It's so good to have you back, right where you belong."
My throat throbs as I swallow, while trying to shake my head. "No, please. Don't do this."
"Don’t do what? Bring you home? Marry you? Make babies with you? This is how it was always supposed to be, right?"
I flinch at his tone, the edge in it a warning I know well.
I understand the warning. We can be happy together…if you survive. Of course, he doesn't say that. Not in so many words, anyway. The warning is clear, though, in the way he hovers over me, watching me. Waiting.
Habits are hard to break, though, and as usual, I find myself slipping back into that familiar role where I try to convince him I don’t want him, and then my efforts implode around me. It didn’t work in the past, and it’s not going to work now.
But that's all I know. How else will I survive?
My voice is squeaky, fear leaching into each word. “What do you want from me?"
His grip shifts, his fingers pinch my chin hard. "Don’t play dumb, Ely. You know what I’ve always wanted, what was bound to happen.”
My entire body trembles, the blood in my veins freezing to ice.
“You baby. It’s you. I want you. I want inside you. I want you on top of me. I want everything I was promised all those years ago, before it was ripped away when your asshole of a father decided to betray me." His hold on my face tightens with each word he speaks, and I fight against the pain.
"Why do this when you know it's not what I want?" I keep my voice small, trying my best not to provoke him.
"It might not be what you want right now, but someday you’ll see things my way. You belong to me. You always have.”
The terrible darkness blankets my skin when his hands slide down my neck then to my shoulders. His hands continue down the length of my body, and thankfully he stops once he reaches my bicep. "I see the marks he put on you. Scratches, cuts, bruises. How could you let him fuck you in the woods like some cheap whore? You are better than that, Ely. More than that.”